


The Place They Go

by GrenadeFestival



Category: Death Note
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Canon Continuation, Canonical Character Death, Gen, L is a dick to Light, One Shot, but also not really because they're already dead???, so like they don't really die in the story, wounds get described in moderate detail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 21:05:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7330627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrenadeFestival/pseuds/GrenadeFestival
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A familiar face comes to greet Light as he enters the afterlife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Place They Go

**Author's Note:**

> Edit 7/19/16: corrected some minor details about the plot of the second arc that were incorrect

_"All humans, without exception, will eventually die._

_After they die, the place they go to is MU."_

* * *

 

There is no light in this place. If there was even the tiniest sliver, the crushing darkness around him might simply be black, and he might be able to pretend that he’s in a dark room somewhere. The reality is far worse. The world around him seems to shift, flickering like static or undulating like waves, breaking up the blackness with flashes of color that certainly can’t exist. He thinks he sees a floor, even a figure, but he knows they can’t exist either, and as soon as his eyes flick away, the shapes dissolve back into the shifting expanse they came from. He tries to reason with himself, remind himself that this has to be his brain making things up in order to make sense of the complete lack of signals from his light-starved eyes, but that does little to calm his nerves. A place like this could not exist on Earth. 

There is little he can do to distract himself from this fact. The static at the edges of his vision seems a part of him, and he can hardly feel his hands or feet. In fact, for all he knows, his body could have already dissolved and joined the great nothingness, and he likely wouldn’t realize it until it was too late to do anything. He feels neither hot, nor cold. His ears pick up no sound, not even his own heart beat. There isn’t the slightest whiff of air to smell or taste. In this place, there is truly nothing.

There is no way to mark the passage of time, and as he hovers in this limbo, he begins to wonder how he will know how long he’s been dead. Somehow it feels like he’s been here years, though he can still remember with startling clarity every jolting footstep that lead him here. He retreats further and further into the depths of his mind, searching for anything to alleviate his profound numbness. He imagines the feeling of the sun on his skin, the sting of the glaring sunset in his eyes. As he recalls memories of the sounds of traffic and the stink of the city air, he wonders how long it will be before that part of him also succumbs to the oppressive void around him. Deep in thought, it takes him some time to realize that he can feel his hands and feet again. 

It’s the star that finally pulls him back to the surface. Just a silver speck of light hovering high over-head. Tiny as it is, no human eye on Earth, certainly not in Japan anyway, would have been able to see it, but the light it generates is just enough to dispel the shifting fuzz from the corners of his eyes. His eyes lock onto it and stare, unblinking, until his eyes stop moving at all and the star disappears again. His eyes start to burn, and finally he breaks free of the darkness’s grip on his senses. Warmth floods his body again, and his muscles ache and groan as he sits up and rubs his eyes. The next time he looks up, there’s an entire universe full of stars there to greet him. 

They hang above him and around him and below him like a shining, velvet dome. He doesn’t know what he’s sitting on, but he’s too absorbed in the shimmering lights to give it much thought. Eventually he stands, and his legs join his eyes in moving throughout this small piece of the cosmos. One star is brighter than the others, and while the others twinkle and shift, this one is perfectly fixed in place, parallel to where he stands. He wonders if he keeps walking if he will eventually reach it. It seems content to let him try. 

He begins walking towards it, and eventually he breaks out into a run. Gradually the star swells and grows, and he has to shield his eyes from its light. He keeps running. He isn’t sure he could stop even if he wanted to. As the star gets closer and closer, its light seems to swallow the sky. Crushing blackness is replaced by searing white. He keeps running. 

Then he falls. 

He’s not sure how it happens. One minute his legs are working steadily beneath him, carrying him farther and faster than they ever could in life, and the next his hands are burning as they, along with the rest of him, collide with the ground. When he opens his eyes again, the searing light is gone, as are the stars and the velvet dome. Instead, he finds himself staring down at a shiny black floor, reflective enough for him to see himself in, but warped enough for him to not recognize any of his features. He sees other reflections as well, and as he stands up, he finds that he is not alone anymore. 

No one pays attention to him, or anyone else. All eyes are fixed ahead on a low, wide arch through which gentle gray light pours. Long shadows ripple across the ground, and before he can ponder what he’s doing, he joins the crowd and adopts their goal as his own. After a few minutes of steady progress, his thoughts seems to return to him. 

_ Where am I? _

He stops. He doesn’t need to answer his own question. He knows. He feels something warm and wet run down the back of his right hand. He feels his shirt sticking to his skin. He doesn’t need to look down to see why. He knows. He can’t feel the pain of the bullets any longer, but he can remember it, and it lingers in his still bleeding wounds as a dull ache. He looks down at his reflection in the floor again. Distorted. Grotesque. 

He turns around and looks back at the advancing crowd. One by one they come stumbling out of the darkness behind them, and one by one they start walking. Lost souls. He feels he should know them. Their faces stick in his mind like tar, but they blur together with all the others he’s pictured over the years. He’s contemplated far too many names and faces in his short life to keep more than a few straight. Some deaths are simply more notable than others. 

“Light?” 

The voice is soft, but it seems to explode in his ears out of the relative silence. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in five years. A voice he’d found he’d forgotten one night as he laid awake in bed. At the time, he could remember things it had said, but couldn’t remember how they had sounded, and as time passed, that voice was simply replaced in his mind with his own. He wondered if he heard it again if he would still know it. As he stares into the darkness, watching more people emerge, he realizes he was foolish to even consider such a question. 

“I expected to see you here eventually, but I never imagined it would be so soon,” the voice says. If Light didn’t know any better, he would say the voice sounded sad. 

Light doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t want to. He wants to let that voice dissolve from his mind and blow away like dust. He wants to let that face grow hazy until he can no longer recall it. He wants to bury his shame along with the rest of him in some far corner of the Earth and hide. 

“I know you can hear me,” L says, impatience replacing his gloominess.

Something in Light snaps. He spins around. 

“Get away from me!” he shouts. He takes a few steps back, as if expecting to be attacked in some way, as if anyone could actually hurt him now. L doesn’t move. He just stares at him with those unfocused eyes, hands in his pockets. Nothing about him has changed at all, though Light isn’t sure why he expected the detective to look any different. Even in life, he felt like a relic frozen in time.

“I want to say police, but...no,” L murmurs, “Even they aren’t so sloppy. Unless…”

“Stop it!” 

“I hope it was Matsuda.” 

“Shut up!” Light screams, “Just shut up! Don’t come any closer!” 

They both fall silent. For a moment, the only sound around them is the tapping of footsteps as other souls walk around them. As the seconds tick by, Light’s sharp, frightened breaths come slower as the initial shock of fear and anger brought on by seeing his long-time adversary fades. 

“Are you done?” L asks. 

“What?” Light breaths. 

“Because I’d rather not stand here longer than necessary,” L continues.

Light huffs. 

“Do you have somewhere to be?” he asks. 

“No,” L says, “but that doesn’t increase my fondness for standing.”

_ Why isn’t he angry? He has to know. He’s always known it was me.  _

“Look, if you’re here to gloat, just get on with it!” Light shouts. 

“Gloat? What for? You won, after all,” L says. 

“You knew it was me all along! You were onto me since day one! I made one too many mistakes, and I was caught!”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I am enjoying this. But I don’t see the point in bragging since your defeat isn’t something I had a hand in. Not directly, anyway.”

“So if that’s not your goal, then what do you want? Revenge? Information? Are you curious as to how Kira was finally eliminated?” Light spits. 

“Well of course I would want to know that. I wouldn’t want to go on thinking I died for nothing,” L says. 

“It’s kind of a long story, and I’m not sure I want to keep your company for that long.”

“Why? Are you afraid I might do something?”

“The thought did cross my mind.”

“You’re acting awfully irrational. How soon after you killed me did that start happening?”

“I didn’t kill you, ok!” Light shouts, “It wasn’t me! It was Rem!” 

“Why, Light, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you felt guilty. Are monsters capable of that?”

Lights balls his hands into fists and takes a breath. 

“Look, if you want to know what happened, you’re going to have to get that information from someone else, because I’m done here,” he snaps. 

He pushes past L, aiming to rejoin the crowd heading for the archway. L turns and watches him for a moment. He doesn’t speak, but Light can feel his eyes boring into his back. His skin prickles as he imagines the silent accusations L must be throwing his way. 

Guilty. All those years he used the Death Note, he’d never felt guilty. Perhaps at the beginning, after his first victim was dispatched, but that didn’t last. He’d told himself that there was no time for remorse. Something far greater was at stake. A new world full of kind and honest people. A world free of evil. Who would feel guilty for trying to realize such a dream? 

_ L was trying to stop me, and he manipulated dozens of people to do it. He’s just as guilty as the rest of them. He deserved what he got.  _

As Light walks, his palms sweat. 

The arch draws closer, and through it he can see a vast, barren landscape. Jagged mountains loom in the distance, and storm clouds swirl overhead. Something about this place feels familiar, like a dream long forgotten. It can’t be Heaven, nor can it be Hell. Ryuk said so himself that those were two places Light could never go. 

_ I wonder if he’s here, watching me.  _

The souls around him disperse as they step through the arch. Light stops near the entrance, his eyes landing on a plain looking man who wrings his hands and jumps every time anyone comes close to him. After a moment, the man stops and stares up at the sky. He seems to relax, and his hands drop to his sides. A warm light engulfs him until his features are indistinguishable, and his body becomes nothing more than a bright, pulsing streak of energy. He shoots up into the sky, and disappears. 

Light’s eyes widen, and he quickly turns his attention to another man near by. The man stops and freezes as his hands turn black. He opens his mouth, as if to scream, as the infection takes hold, but no sound comes out. Within seconds, his whole body turns to black stone before cracking and crumbling away into dust. 

One by one, souls either ascend or crumble away. Only a handful are left behind to watch, but even they disappear before long as they turn and run into the rolling gray desert. Behind him, Light hears quiet footsteps. 

“I’ve been watching them for five years, and still I don’t know all the reasons why some people stay and some people go. Just when I think I’ve found a pattern, someone breaks it,” L says, “It seems the rules of the afterlife are just as complicated as the ones in that notebook of yours.”

“Figures,” Light mutters. 

“Before you ask, I don’t know where we are either. Some kind of purgatory obviously, but that’s all I know.” 

L pauses and sighs. 

“Initially I wasn’t all that upset that you killed me, Light, except that the afterlife is awfully boring.”

“Is that why you’re still following me?” 

“Well of course. Trying to catch you was the most fun I’ve had in ages.” 

Light glances over at L. 

“You really are a freak, Ryuzaki.” 

Light pauses and grimaces as the nickname slips out. 

“Ugh, I mean…”

L’s expression brightens, and he looks almost mischievous. Smug. Light starts to ask what the hell is so funny, but he stops and looks away. 

_ Whatever.  _

“I wonder when Misa will be joining us,” L muses. 

“Don’t remind me,” Light mutters, “I hope she passes on.” 

“I doubt that. She wasn’t much better than you, after all, even if she wasn’t quite as selfish.” 

“She’s the last person I’d want to spend eternity with. I could hardly stand her the past five years.”

“But you kept her around because she was useful. And to think you once said you couldn’t possibly manipulate a woman’s feelings like that.” 

Light huffs and turns to face L. 

“Can’t we have a conversation without you constantly insulting me?”

“No,” L says, in his usual deadpan tone, “You deserve it.” 

“Fine then. Got anything else to get off your chest?!” Light asks. 

“That reminds me, I saw Chief Yagami again. A while back,” L says. 

Light pauses, somewhat rattled by the mention of his father. 

“You saw my dad?” 

“He didn’t stay long. He went like that nervous fellow we just saw. I doubt we’ll see him again, though I suppose for you that’s a good thing. He died believing you were innocent. Perhaps it’s best not to shatter that illusion, assuming it’s still intact.” 

“What did he tell you?” 

“Well, he seemed happy to see me, if only because that meant he got to tell me I was wrong. Of course, I asked what happened, but you know how he is. He gets so emotional,” L says. 

“One of your  _ successors _ kidnapped my sister. My father died trying to bring him to justice,” Light says. 

“Seems to have worked out for you.”

“What is that supposed to mean? You think I’d purposely try to get my own father killed?!” 

“You don’t have anything to gain by lying to me, Light. I don’t doubt that your sister’s kidnapping and your father’s subsequent death weren’t part of your plan, but as always you found a way to gain an advantage from it. In this case, it was another reason for the task force not to continue investigating you. I doubt any of them would go against the dying wishes of their beloved chief without good reason.” 

Light doesn’t say anything. He takes a deep breath and balls his hands into fists. Another drop of blood rolls off his knuckles and lands in the dust at his feet. He feels stiff and grimy, but at least the bleeding seems to be subsiding. He wonders if that’s because the blood is finally drying, or if it’s because there’s no blood left that can be drained. 

“Who else have you seen?” he finally asks, lowering his voice to a murmur. 

“Hm, who else,” L mutters, chewing on his fingernail, “Mello was here for a while. I don’t know where he went. He’s trapped here as well, but he didn’t stick around. I also distinctly remember a man who came here raving about ‘God.’ Said he did everything this god asked of him. In fact, he arrived just a few minutes before you did. I don’t suppose you knew him?” 

Light scoffs. 

“Mikami.” 

“Crumbled into dust. Yes, he was very odd.” 

“You’re one to talk,” Light says, “Anyone else? What about Watari?” 

L pauses. 

“Hm,” he says, “Yes, I did see him.” 

He doesn’t say anything more. Light contemplates getting back at the detective for all the insults with a witty comment about how it must have been hard seeing the only person he ever trusted in a place like this, but he doesn’t. He realizes that he doesn’t even know what Watari was to L exactly. A jab that isn’t at least somewhat accurate is ultimately meaningless. 

“I’m guessing he didn’t stick around either,” Light says. 

“No.” 

“Have you explored much of this place? Or have you just been people watching?” 

“Oh I’ve looked around here and there. I’ve heard there are places you can view the living world from, but I figured there wasn’t much point in sitting around watching everything. I knew you’d be here sooner rather than later and that you could fill me in on the more interesting details,” L says, “Plus, if we’re both being perfectly honest with each other, I dislike the idea of watching the world continue without me. I find it depressing.” 

“What, can’t stand the idea that the world doesn’t revolve around you?” 

“No, I can’t stand the idea of you beating me and taking over my investigation in order to further Kira’s agenda,” L says, “You know how I hate to lose.” 

He prods at the dirt with his toe, digging a small dent into the soil. 

“Since we have all the time in the world now,” he continues, “You should tell me how you did it. I’m sure I’ve figured out the basics of your master plan, but I’m short on details.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Light mutters, “but first I’d like to get all this blood off me. It’s disgusting.” 

“I suppose it would be,” L says.

“Does this place have water?” 

“Sometimes. This way.” 

L turns and starts walking off towards a cluster of rock formations. Light puts his hands in his pockets and follows. He stares at L’s footprints in the dust as he follows behind him. Sometimes he sees an object half buried among the stones and bone fragments - a spoon, a cell phone, a pair of goggles - and he wonders how something like that could have possibly gotten here. If something can be dropped from the Shinigami Realm into the human world, is it possible for the reverse to happen? Or are these just the ghosts of items dropped by lost souls wandering the desert? It doesn’t seem impossible. After all, Light arrived with his clothes and watch intact. At some point, maybe one decides there’s no point in hanging on to such things, and so they’re lost. Forgotten. 

L stops and Light looks up. At the base of one of the boulders, there’s a murky pool. It’s small and shallow, gray just like everything else. Something that looks like pond scum floats near the edge. Light makes a face, but he doesn’t say anything. He doubts there’s anything better here. 

“You’re lucky. It looks about ready to dry up,” L says, “Sometimes storms pass through here, but who knows when the next one will be.”

Light crouches next to the pool and splashes the water on his hands. Gradually the blood comes out, staining the water near him. He loosens his tie and tosses it into the sand. He undoes the first of his shirt buttons but stops. He’s not sure he wants to see what Matsuda and the others did to him. Seeing the holes, the blood, will make all of this too real. As if seeing L again wasn’t enough. 

“Something wrong?” L asks. 

Light blinks. 

“No, I was just…”

He sighs and undoes the rest of the buttons. 

He practically has to peel the fabric off of himself. It crackles as the drying blood gives way. It stings, but he doesn’t care. He picks his tie back up and, after soaking it in the pool, starts using it to clean up the mess. As the blood washes away, the wounds reveal themselves. Neat holes surrounded by angry purple bruises. Staring at them, Light remembers the pain of each one. The fear he felt as everyone turned on him at once and the world he’d fought so hard to create came crashing down around him. 

“Will they ever heal?” he whispers. 

“No,” L says, “I don’t think so.”

There’s a moment of silence as L walks over and sits next to him in the sand. The detective stares out at the rippling water, deep in thought. 

“It’s interesting,” he says, “We’re all dead, so there’s no need for us to eat, sleep, or do any of the activities we had to do in life to keep functioning, and yet often I still feel very much alive. If I were to fall and hit my head, it would hurt, and every once in awhile I crave food even though I don’t need it.” 

Light snorts. 

“Yeah, I bet there’s no sugar here.” 

L ignores him and continues. 

“I’ve talked to some of the people who remain here. I ask them how they feel. How they died. Some of them have said that they can still feel their hearts beating, even though they don’t technically have bodies or organs anymore.” 

Light raises an eyebrow. 

“And?” 

“Mine doesn’t.”

Light isn’t sure what to say, but he doesn’t know why he’s surprised. 

“Oh,” he says.

He dips his tie back in the pool and squeezes the water out. 

“Do you want to know what it felt like?” L asks. 

“What what felt like?” 

“Having a heart attack. I’m sure you’ve wondered at least once what it was like for all your victims before they died.” 

“I guess.” 

L pauses, as if trying to come up with the perfect metaphor or word to describe the feeling. He frowns and begins chewing on his thumb again. 

“It’s unpleasant,” he mutters. 

Light laughs. 

“Is that the best description you can come up with?” 

“I’m not a poetic person, Light. I think in terms of facts and data, not sonnets.” 

“Well, you don’t have to worry. I looked it up once. It’s supposed to feel like an elephant is standing on you or something.” 

“An elephant wearing spiked shoes, maybe,” L mutters, “It’s not a painless death, I assure you.” 

“I never had any illusions that it was. Death is always going to be unpleasant. No matter how it happens.” 

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Especially if you’re shot to death by your own task force.” 

“Do you want to know how that felt?”

“Enlighten me.” 

“It feels like getting punched, honestly.” 

“Yes, you’ve made sure I know what that feels like.” 

“But I guess it didn’t hurt much at first. It just happens so quickly...I don’t know. The pain doesn’t come until later, but when it does, it’s...well, it’s pretty awful. Like being stabbed, but worse.”

“Interesting.”

“And by the way.”

“Hm?”

“It  _ was _ Matsuda.”

L smiles. 

“I'd love to know what you said to drive him to that,” he says, “In fact, I’d like to know the whole story. From the beginning.”

“But you know the beginning.”

“Not all of it.”

“Well what about you, huh? If I tell you everything, then you're going to have to give me something too.”

“Oh that's not a problem,” L says, “You tell me your story, and I'll tell you anything you want to know. I'll even tell you my name.”

Light pauses. L’s name doesn't matter now. No one’s does in a place like this, and yet, the idea still excites him. The name of his adversary was something he'd put his life on the line to try and get, and even after he won, he never learned it. It's the last piece of the puzzle. The loose end. He takes a breath. 

“The beginning, huh,” he says, “It began when I saw a black book land in the school yard…”

The sky above them begins to rumble.


End file.
